


Him and His way

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Depression, Gay, Guilt, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, One Shot, Suicide, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23735182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "That's just so you, Potter.""What's so me?"He's distracting me, doing anything to keep my trembling fingers planted on this insufferable bar.He's humouring me."To assume I want you to grab me. Always were the one to take the best in people."He's humouring me and I'm taking the bait.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 55





	Him and His way

I stand dangerously close to the edge, toes curling against the cold, hard ledge, arms straightened out behind me as I lean.

It's a beautiful morning, the sun barley seeping over the treeline- just so it slips out a soft glow across the grounds. People walk below, each consumed in making their own memories. Mystical tales of a far away school to spin to their children come dusk. The children I will never have.

I will never be like my father. 

Not one of them looks up. If they did I would be featureless- maybe then they would care for a moment. For the unidentified man about to lose his life. When they land, though, when I land they will cheer. Another fallen Death Eater. 

The sleepless nights are little preparation for this, I realise now, it's never the same to let go in real life.

"What the fuck are you doing?!"

A voice sounds behind me, soft and full of fear, practically dripping with it in fact.

His voice.

"So nice of you to join me up here, beautiful morning, wouldn't you agree?"

I try to snarl but it comes out hoarse from crying- weak and shaky, like my hands.

Why won't they just let go?

"Malfoy, just lean back, put your weight near the bars and I can grab you. Come on, please?"

Always the rational one. Always the calm, brave, selfless one. The laugh bubbles up my throat without permission, a soft chuckle that reverberates through the still tower.

It echoes cruelly, void of emotion.

"That's just so you, Potter."

"What's so me?"

He's distracting me, doing anything to keep my trembling fingers planted on this insufferable bar. 

He's humouring me.

"To assume I want you to save me. You always were one to take the best of people."

He's humouring me and I'm taking the bait. 

I still haven't chanced a glance at him, fearing that any look back will shatter the temperamental commitment I still latch onto. He shuffles slightly, trainers dragging against the rough floor. 

"Don't."

The shuffling stops. 

The sun has crept its way over the hilltops now, spilling messily into the forest and the students have long since scampered to breakfast. It's a pity, I think, for they have lost front row tickets. The air is still icy sharp, painfully sharp and a warm tears dances its way down my cheek, quickly captured with a darting flick of the wrist. 

For a moment, I waver. The one hand now ensuring my perch: unsteady and unsure. Behind me, Harry swallows down his gasp.

"She was a great mum, you know?"

"Yeah, I know. She save-"

"And he was a good dad."

That stops him mid sentence. I know without turning that a single eyebrow is raised in question, mind spinning to all the faults so plain to see in the man. 

But he's wrong. He didn't know him. 

"Draco?"

The gentle tone is back and it scares me more than even standing out on the edge. It scares me how much he cares.

"We would play all down down the corridors at the Manner. Hide and seek with the house elves and when Pansy came around we could chat for hours on end. She wanted to be an actress, you know, a muggle one. I knew she was smart enough and she knew she was pretty enough- she would tell me just so. Mum and Dad adored her and would bend to her every beck and call. We were best friends, Potter. We were a family, us three and her."

"It sounds lovely, Draco."

I would swear that behind the concern, an undertone of longing lingers. Envy for the man leaning off the side of the astronomy tower. How ironic. 

I take a final, shuddering breath and turn. He's as perfect as ever. Our hero. Our martyr. Though wind swept and mortified, he is still drop dead handsome. Robes crumpled and misplaced, hair frantically swept to one side: unintentionally beautiful. 

"But, then, Tom decided he liked Father and Father liked money, power, to see the world bend at his will."

I smile now, not a grimace or a sneer, I smile at him and let my eyes dart down his features. As if forever imprinting them in my memory: desperately seeking out what makes Harry the man in front of me.

Someone I can never be. 

"He took it all away, Potter, with a snap of his fingertips."

His eyes widen as I tip backwards, mouth dropping open slightly. His face twists in desperate regret, a fierce guttural sound gurgling out of him, across between a scream and choke.

I don't regret it.

I don't have time to regret it.

**Author's Note:**

> An old one-shot I wrote when I was, like, 14. Needed a little cleaning up but I was surprised that it turned outnot everything I wrote at that age was shit. Bit too angsty without plot, but not devastating.


End file.
